


Episode 1 - The Birth of a Doctor

by kkthedoctor



Series: Doctor Who - The Alternative Doctor [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Whoniverse | Doctor Who Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkthedoctor/pseuds/kkthedoctor
Summary: The Doctor has reached the end of his life. Following an inspiring venture into his deepest past, he has decided to go forward, to regenerate and see the universe anew.The Doctor is dead. Long live the Doctor.





	Episode 1 - The Birth of a Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This work is hopefully the start of a series based on an original Doctor, with an original companion to be introduced later, based on ideas and plot threads I have had for a while.
> 
> This incarnation of the Doctor is an alternate Thirteenth Doctor, although to avoid confusion I'll never use this number. Also, this placing of him after Twelve is no attempt by me to insult or invalidate the canon Thirteenth Doctor, or series 11. I just have a story I want to tell that falls best after the Twelfth Doctor regenerates.
> 
> The Alternate Doctor is based on the idea of Twelve's focus on what sort of characteristics he wants to regenerate into during his final speech actually coming to a more literal fruition - this Doctor is very much like Twelve (like Ten and Eleven following similar archetypes to each other), but refined in ways that I feel the Twelfth Doctor would change himself. He of course varies in a lot of ways, but in essence begins as a younger, calmer, more content version of Twelve, who focuses on exploration rather than heroics, and takes more tactful approaches to situations. The teacher aspect that Twelve has in series 10 will also become a very major part of this Doctor's story.
> 
> This is just a short intro episode, covering the regeneration, and hopefully giving an impression of what this Doctor will be like in future stories. I hope you all enjoy :)

"Laugh hard, run fast, be kind."

Those were the words that had sprung the Doctor forth from the imagination and into reality. He could feel the energy searing through him, as if it coarsed through his veins but also burnt his flesh. His life was fading but also bursting into life, the contradictory moment on the edge of death where a Time Lord's very being was thrust back from the brink and into new life.

It was happening. This was the moment.

The shocks of grey hair shivered as a sharp blackness weaved its way up through them. The line and creases forged by a long and tumultuous life simply evaporated off of the Doctor's skin, softening his face as the energy moulded it anew. A forest of facial hair erupted from the new chin, and a spark of intrigue ignited in his eyes, emerald swirling its way into a mellow, contemplative blue.

He could feel a new personality firing through the neurons in his brain. Curiosity balancing wisdom. Intrigue balancing patience. The same foundations, but redefined, filtered, reimagined. Insecurity, guilt and anxiety swirling in the shadows seem to vanish. A contentment sat anew in its place. A feeling of security in the definition of what being the Doctor should be.

And then it was done.

The Doctor took a stride forward, noticing the strain of his feet inside boots that were now a size too small. He gently smiled to himself as he surveyed the TARDIS, the one place he was familiar with most in the universe but that also instilled him with that new found sense of wonder that fresh eyes afforded him. That feeling that this blinking, ticking, whirring array of machinery could and would take him anywhere. Everywhere, even. So much to see, so much to learn. So many places to see, and people to meet.

"Not in these tattered old things though." He surprised himself with the sound of his own voice. Firstly that he had spoken aloud without meaning to, not the worst side effect he had ever experienced though. Secondly, that it was new and unfamiliar. It rolled softly off of his tongue, deep tones rumbling inside his throat. The syllables were well pronounced, with a gentle intonation. He would definitely enjoy using this voice.

As he bounded down the stairs and out of the console room he found himself surprised by how balanced he felt. Not erratic, or sleepy, or confused. He was upbeat and assured. Maybe the focus he had afforded himself in choosing the way he wanted to be had allowed this regeneration to settle in easier? He pondered over it for a moment but quickly threw the thought aside. He'd reached the wardrobe already.

Amongst looming towers of rails, drawers and boxes, the Doctor eyed around in curious delight. Who am I now? What's here for me? He'd always loved this bit. The clothes he wore now were constrictive and formal, the tattered remains of an old rock star who would own the room with a philosophical, mercurial dominance. Not quite him. 

Waistcoats? Maybe, but not today. Shirts? His was straining around the collar. Hats? A possibility, although this felt like a rather cumbersome head for a hat. Trainers would be too flimsy, cravats too fussy. He weaved and paced and boggled for something to jump out. 

Ah!

Funny how one could go from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye, the Doctor mused. One thing jumped out, then another, and another. The singed velvet was thrown aside, the shirt torn from his broad frame, the boots kicked aside. And from the pile the Doctor stepped forward and admired himself in the mirror with a quizzicle raised brow. He was comfy. And VIBRANT. And he liked it a lot.

A slightly baggy jumper sat brightly on his shoulders - woven in alternating threads of yellow and black in a thick, warm knit. It sat above a pair of woollen trousers in a rusty tartan - reds and oranges weaving together in a bold pattern over a backdrop of deep blue. His was a striking but comforting presence, finished with a heavy pair of brown leather boots, already battered and worn from some adventures in a previous life.

"Perhaps a little ostentatious, eh." He ruffled his hair and looked around, but the answer presented itself quickly. He put on a grey knee length overcoat, in a textured herringbone fabric. It flowed gently with his walk, offering a muted edge to the rest of his clothing, and had deep pockets into which he enthusiastically thrust his hands.

This was it. Perfect. Like a finished picture of himself in front of his eyes. He looked intently into the reflection, and found himself smiling again. Because it was the Doctor looking back at him. Not a warrior, nor oncoming storm, nor officer, nor president. He was the Doctor. And he was settled with that. And that was a good feeling.


End file.
